And From The Flame
by Lover of Angelus
Summary: Malcolm Reynolds wakes with a shout, clinging to his right arm, trying to stop the blood of a wound healed long ago. Slash. MalxSimon


**Title** And From the Flame

**Disclaimer** Me no own, you no sue.

**Warning** Disturbing situations; slashy; bad language

**Note** Translations are at the end of the fic

-z-

_**Fire and screaming, death and mayhem.**_

_**There is a young boy at the business end of your rifle.**_

_**A grenade goes off outside the house you're in and the boy goes for his pistol.**_

Malcolm Reynolds wakes with a shout, clinging to his right arm, trying to stop the blood of a wound healed long ago.

"Mal?" Kaylee's voice cuts through the echoing screams and brings him back to _Serenity_'s crew lounge.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Malcolm smiles weakly, rubbing a hand over his sweat-drenched face.

"Nightmare?" she asked, setting a hand on her captain's shoulder. She ignored the trembling and tried to smile.

"One of the perks of fighting in a war," Mal said as he stood and made his way to his cabin.

"Cap'n?" Kaylee's voice stopped Mal.

"Yes?" he asked as he turned to look at her. He was surprised by the concern in her eyes; it wasn't like this was the first she had seen him wake from one of his nightmares.

"If you hold your arm any tighter, it might fall off."

Mal scrunched his eyebrows together before looking down where his left hand was still clutching at the old wound. Surprised at this, Mal quickly dropped his hand.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she knew he wouldn't but offered anyway.

"Trust me, little one," Mal turned away and started away again, "it's not a story you'd wanna hear."

_**A grenade goes off outside the house you're in and the boy goes for his pistol.**_

_**You wanted to tell him to stop, to not be stupid. But just as the words formed on your lips, the trigger had already been pulled and the rifle in your hands was still smoking.**_

"_**Shagua," you curse the boy. You're still shaking your head when the door behind you slams open.**_

"Can't. Breath. Mal!" Simon choked and stuttered.

"Shagua," Mal's eyes were frozen over before they focused on Simon's face. Leaning forward so their foreheads touched, Malcolm asked, "Why did you grab the gun, boy?"

"_Captain_!" Simon used the last of the air in his lungs to shout.

As if a grenade had just popped off in front of him, Malcolm flew backwards, relinquishing his iron-like grip on the doctor's neck.

Simon held onto his throat as he sat up, kicking out his legs to push himself as far away from Mal as he could.

"I'm sorry," Mal was wide-eyed as he stared at the younger man still gasping for breath.

Simon shook his head before resting it against the wall, his breath had slowed and his eyelids fluttered open.

"What're you doin' here?" Mal asked as he stood, keeping his moves slow and deliberate.

"Kaylee told me about what happened earlier," Simon's voice was quiet and hoarse, laden with caution.

"Did she now?" the lines on Mal's face hardened.

The doctor nodded.

A long silence passed over the two men. Mal finally broke it as he stepped away from the ladder and moved toward his bunk. Flopping down lazily, he grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at Simon.

"There's nothing wrong with me, Doc," Mal closed his eyes.

"Not physically," Simon said slowly.

Mal opened his eyes to the doctor standing over him with one hand on his hip and the other in a pocket. Suddenly, Mal was very aware of the fact he only had shorts on.

"The damage is elsewhere," Simon's eyes had narrowed as he reached down and stroked one of the scars on Mal's chest, scrutinizing it.

"You think you can fix what's been done to me?" there was sarcasm dripping off every word but also an underlying whisper of desperation.

Simon didn't answer right away, his eyes and hand moving across Mal's exposed skin to trace and memorize all its numerous scars. He was trying to find the pattern, to determine where the pieces would fit and what kind of story they would tell.

Suddenly, Mal's arm flashed out, grabbing the front of the doctor's shirt and pulling him down. Before he had been able to tell exactly what had just happened, Simon was on his back with Mal hovering over him, both arms pinned above his head with just one of Mal's fists.

"Is this going to become a regular thing?" Simon demanded. Instantly he recoiled from his own words when he saw the hot flash of anger in Mal's eyes.

"Don't start something you don't intend to finish," Mal snarled, glaring for a few seconds more to emphasize his point. He pushed himself slowly off the doctor and into a sitting position with his back against the wall.

Simon opened his mouth to say something but Mal interrupted him.

"Don't think you're the first one to come along with a mind to fix me. If you can't handle it, doc, I'd rather you just let me be, _dong ma_?"

"_Dong ma_," Simon repeated quietly.

"Good," Mal said, "now, get out."

_**You're still shaking your head when the door behind you slams open.**_

_**Immediately you turn on your heel and let loose a hail of bullets.**_

_**The blood in your veins turns to acid when you see that your attackers were only children. Children armed with **_**rocks**_**.**_

_**You didn't see the Alliance soldier coming through the window until he was on you, blade flashing in the fire-light.**_

"It's like clockwork," Zoë tells Simon as she moved from the galley to sit at the dining table. "Check your calendar, Doc, _U-Day_ is fast approaching."

"Will you explain this to me?" Simon asked, sitting across from her and Wash.

Zoë nodded over the cup in her hands.

"Two weeks before the _U-Day_ anniversary and Captain's temper flares quicker; as I'm sure you of all people have noticed. He drinks more, eats less. One week prior he gets even more agitated, more jumpy. The nightmares start. They're short at first, almost surreal, but the closer _U-Day_ gets, the nightmares get longer and longer, more and more vivid."

"This happens to you, also?" Simon questioned.

"No," Zoë looked at Wash and smiled, "not for a long time, now. I was saved. Every time a nightmare started, I could feel him put his arms around me and that was it. It all would just fade away and I would be at peace."

"So," Wash held up both hands as he spoke, "as soon as Mal starts having another of his bad dreams, just run up and give him a hug!" Wash emphasized his words by wrapping both arms around his wife, a goofy smile plastered widely over his face.

"Well, that sounds simple enough," Simon said as he tapped a finger on the table. "But the last time I walked in on one of his nightmares, he tried to strangle me."

"That's how you know you're making progress," Mal suddenly entered the galley, eyeing everyone present before moving to grab an apple.

"Does that mean I'll get stabbed next time?" Simon cocked his head to the side.

"Maybe," Mal shrugged his shoulders and took a large bite out of the apple. "With what though, that remains to be seen."

Mal let the innuendo sink in. Once the doctor's expression had turned from confusion to embarrassment, Mal wriggled his eyebrows and disappeared into the depths of _Serenity_'s winding halls.

"What do I do?" Simon's voice held a trace note of fear as he turned back to Zoë and Wash.

Wash's mouth was still hanging open as the captain's words still rang around in his head, his bright blue eyes jerking between the doctor and where Mal had just stood.

Zoë looked Simon in the eyes, thinking carefully on her next words.

"I think you can do it," she said. "The captain needs someone close to him to help him through this."

"Wouldn't Inara be better qualified?" Simon offered.

"She can't take a punch."

"Punch?" Simon's eyebrows flew up.

"Listen, doc," Zoë leaned forward. "You go down this road with Mal; you will either fix him or destroy yourself. I think you can fix him. Look how far you've come with River, which alone proves to me that you have the strength necessary to get through this."

"There's only one complication," Wash spoke up, raising his hand. "Simon and River get along. Simon and Mal? Not so much."

"That's what I'm saying," Zoë insisted. "Mal needs someone who can keep up with him. You're going to have to push him. Mal is going to try to scare you away, but you can't let him."

_**You didn't see the Alliance soldier until he was on you, blade flashing in the firelight. You dodged out from the first strike, but couldn't make it a second time when the knife was buried into your right shoulder. You couldn't help the scream that crawled out of your throat.**_

_**The Alliance soldier removed the blade quickly and danced out of range.**_

"**Gorram **_**it," you cursed when you realized you had dropped your rifle.**_

_**The enemy soldier darted in, burying the blade hilt-deep in your thigh.**_

'**He's playing with me,' **_**you realize suddenly, the icy fingers of fear trailing up your spine.**_

"**Gorram **_**baby killer," the Alliance soldier snarled.**_

"_**I didn't mean to," you couldn't keep the whimper out of your voice and you hated yourself for it.**_

"**Gorram**_** baby killer! Independence scum!"**_

"I-," Mal jerked awake. Instantly feeling he wasn't alone, it was the soldier in him, brought to the surface by the barrage of his nightmares about the war, who reacted quickly.

Grabbing the intruder by the collar, Mal used both arms to swing him off the chair and onto the deck.

"So this _is_ going to become a regular thing," Simon groaned.

Mal's lips tightened into a thin line as he released his hold on the doctor.

"What are you doing here?" Mal demanded his voice stern despite the defeated slump of his body.

"How are your dreams?" Simon asked in return.

For once, Mal didn't fight against the doctor; he merely crawled back onto his bed and gazed blearily into Simon's eyes.

"Not dreams anymore, doc," Mal's voice was rough, his accent thicker, "nightmares only."

"About what?" Simon prodded when it became apparent Mal wasn't going to offer up the information on his own.

"U-day is fast approachin' me, doc. With it come all its little ghosts and humble terrors."

Simon sat up from his still lying down position so he was face to face with Mal.

"'Little ghosts and humble terrors'?"

"You didn't answer my question," Mal suddenly realized how Simon had changed the subject.

"I'm a doctor, Captain," Simon replied smoothly as he crossed his arms over each other and laid his head down on them. "It's my job to fix what's broken."

"I'm not _that_ broken," Mal protested.

"On the contrary, sir," Simon tapped the captain on the nose, "you are quite broken. I'm here to fix you."

"You know what needs to be done?" Mal asked.

Simon didn't answer, just leaned forward so their foreheads touched.

"You know what needs to be done?" Mal repeated.

"Tell me where it hurts," Simon whispered, pressing his lips to Mal's cheek. "Tell me how much it hurts," he lowered his lips to Mal's jaw. "Tell me why it hurts," he moved up to hover over Mal's lips, "and I'll see what I can do."

Mal muttered something unintelligible before he knotted his fingers in the hair on the back of Simon's head and pulled him down into a rough kiss.

"**Gorram**_** baby killers! Independence scum!"**_

_**You've never felt this defeated before. You scramble for your gun on your hands and knees but your body is heavy and the Alliance soldier is fast.**_

_**He buries his knife into your calf. You almost manage to bite off your tongue as you try not to scream. Instead, you collapse onto your stomach, all strength leaving your muscles.**_

"**Captain**_**," a voice on the wind caresses your cheek; warm fingers stroke the back of your neck. You feel your strength slowly returning.**_

_**The Alliance soldier tosses the blade back and forth between both hands.**_

"**Captain, my lost captain,"**_** you know that voice.**_

_**The Alliance soldier is laughing at you.**_

"**Malcolm Reynolds**_**," your frustration at not being able to conjure up a face to match the voice combines with the soldier's laughing and all of a sudden you know that this fight is yours.**_

_**The Alliance soldier started toward you, his stride slow and confidant.**_

_**You back up quickly, using your elbows and your one good leg. When you feel the cool metal against your fingertips you can't help the hysterical chuckle that escapes your throat.**_

"**Mal**_**," the voice is sweet on the wind.**_

"_**Simon," you don't know where the name came from but **_**tianna**_** it tasted like honey-suckle on your tongue as you leveled your rifle and pulled the trigger.**_

Simon was sprawled on the captain's bed, a small smile on his face.

"What are you doin' here, doc?" Mal asked as he woke quietly from his sleep.

Simon resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the question. It was the same question Mal had been asking every day for the past few weeks. And every time, Simon replied,

"How are your nightmares?"

Now, the replies could range any where from "Go away" to "Can I hit you? Please? Just once, won't hurt a bit, promise!"

But today, for the first time since Simon had begun to break down mal in order to rebuild him, the captain had waked up with a smile. Mal's reply was lazy as he said,

"Not nightmares anymore, doc, dreams only."

"About what?" Simon asked, flipping onto his stomach so he could look into Mal's eyes.

"Winning," Mal laughed at him and rubbed a hand over his head. "I had a dream that we won."

Simon didn't say anything, just reached over and trailed his fingers from the back of the Captain's head, down his neck and over his spine.

Mal closed his eyes, allowing those warm fingers to flood his body with strength.

-z-

_- Shagua_: Retard

_- Gorram_: Goddamn

_- Dong ma_: Understand?

_- Tianna_: Oh, God!


End file.
